Ren crossed to the doors and pounded on them. “Guards! What’s going on out there?” she demanded when the Talons didn’t respond.

“Keep’s on lockdown,” came a muffled reply. “Remain where you are.”

As if that was any great change. “Why are they tolling the bells? Is it my father?”

“We know as much as you do, my lady.” The guard’s tone thickened with annoyance.

“Well, send a messenger to find out,” Ren snapped. Stony silence was her only answer.

Frustrated, she stormed back to the window. Pressed her face to the glass, and peered at the neighboring towers. Specifically the cherry one. She watched shadowed figures move across it, backlit by the windows on the few corridors that faced outward.

Above the tower hung Nox, full and bright, its yellow light usually her favorite of all the moons. Tonight, it seemed sickly. Reminded her of a dying man’s yellowed eyes.

She didn’t notice when the first tears fell. Only when one dripped onto the window and streaked down the glass.

Father.

He’d died thinking—no, knowing Ren was a traitor. She’d betrayed him, betrayed Kolonya. She had planned to make up for it one day. To work hard, pay for her sins in sweat. She’d dreamed of forging a better Kolonya, a fairer one for all its people.

Now look at her. Trapped in this tower. Barred from any chance of reconciliation with her father, hated by the people whose approval she’d longed for.

So what are you going to do about it? asked a little voice in the back of her mind. Stay here and meekly await your trial? Subject yourself to the heir’s whims?

If she was already as good as dead, no harm in risking her life now.

Ren shoved away from the window and crossed her chambers again. She knocked harder this time.

“What?” shouted the same Talon.

“Is my father dead?” Ren asked the impassive stonewood door. She let him hear the pain in her voice. “I deserve to know that much.”

She heard a heavy sigh. Finally, the locks turned, and a brown-eyed, broad-nosed Kolonyan face appeared in the crack. “You’re right. I’m sorry for your loss, my lady.”

She shut her eyes. Her lungs ached, as though the breath had been sucked from them. “Did he…” She licked her lips, suddenly dry. “Was it peaceful, at least?”

“I don’t know, my lady.” She looked up and found him staring at her in concern. “The Keep has been placed into lockdown. That’s a procedure we only use in cases… Well. Cases like Countess Yasmin’s, Sun accept her soul.”

Cases of murder. So the heir got to him after all.

“I see,” she managed to reply. Her throat, her chest, everything felt tight. Dizzy.